


Making Contact

by fabrega



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 04:38:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14992949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/pseuds/fabrega
Summary: Talon get in touch. This isn't what Moira signed up for.





	Making Contact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smarshtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/gifts).



> Blackwatch Week Day 4: Friends / Enemies
> 
> Thanks to [smarshtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/) for encouraging all the parts of this. ♥

Moira's relationship with Talon has always had set parameters: they provide funding for her research, and in return she uses that research in ways that are beneficial to them and to her alike. She gets to continue her genetic research on Gabriel Reyes, and Talon get--well, Gabriel Reyes, along with whatever small bits of tech she can acquire from the rest of Overwatch. Talon's guidance is limited, their contact is minimal, and their interactions are always brief and faceless, and honestly, this suits Moira just fine.

She therefore feels incredibly annoyed when she receives an unexpected message via the standard encrypted channel that Talon typically use. She can't imagine any good reason for them to initiate contact with her without warning; this message can only be trouble.

She opens it and skims through it with exasperation. She is, as far as she knows, the highest-ranking member of Talon in the Overwatch power structure, insofar as Blackwatch fits into the overall Overwatch hierarchy and can even be said to _have_ a hierarchy of its own. She has personal access to Commander Reyes, who in turn has access to pretty much everything. But this message... This message says that someone else in Commander Reyes' inner circle has reached out to Talon, with offers of even more access and intel. Talon are asking that Moira meet with this person and work with them going forward to accelerate Talon's plans.

It feels like a trap. Moira knows that Talon have been more bold of late, more visible, causing more problems for Overwatch and the world at large. She also knows that there are rumblings about Overwatch putting together a task force to look into Talon, and that Commander Reyes' name has come up in connection with it. She wouldn't put it past him to make an overture like this to Talon in the hopes of gaining more information about the organization.

Then again, Talon must already trust this new asset, if they're willing to risk Moira's position and access in order for the two of them to meet. She'll have to hope that Talon have already done their due diligence, the same way she trusts them to keep her other secrets.

The message includes instructions on their meeting, an inherent assumption that Moira won't refuse this directive--Moira chafes at the presumptuousness of the request, and at the knowledge that she probably couldn't refuse it even if she wanted to. The rendezvous is arranged for a few days from now, at a small cafe not far from the Blackwatch base. She's to meet codename _Scylla_ there, make herself known to them, and "further assess their usefulness" to Talon, as presumably the first person working for Talon to meet them in person.

Moira wonders who _Scylla_ could possibly be. The list of people in Reyes' inner circle is small indeed, greatly narrowing the possibilities if _Scylla_ isn't overselling their own importance. 

McCree, perhaps? Surely not; McCree owes Reyes too much, is too invested in the thing they'd built together, _cares_ too much to be willing to sell all of it out like this. No, it couldn't be McCree. Shimada, then--perhaps Talon had made him an offer of revenge on his family, his brother, the kind of revenge that Blackwatch had promised him but which had yet to materialize. Or maybe it was one of Reyes' beloved strike team. She's seen their personnel files. Shiga had been recruited into Blackwatch in unsavory circumstances that she can't help but feel he may not have completely outgrown, and Jayachandran has a surprising amount of unpaid debt that she'd be smart to use Talon to help her pay off. There are possibilities. She's--not _intrigued_ , that's too strong a word, but at least mildly curious.

Whoever it is, she hopes that it's worth it, for her, and for Talon, and even for them.

.

When the day of the rendezvous arrives, she gets to the cafe early. She orders a tea and sits at a booth in the back and waits, sipping her drink while she looks half-heartedly over a tablet full of Angela Ziegler's research she's technically not supposed to have. She means to keep an eye on the door, but she gets caught up in modifying one of Angela's equations and doesn't notice the man standing over her until he clears his throat, an impatient noise that sounds like it may not be the first time he's tried it.

She shuts off her tablet and sets it down.

"Dr. O'Deorain," the man says, looking surprised, and it takes a moment for Moira to place him: Michael Edwards. He's a Blackwatch agent, part of Reyes' strike team, the computer specialist maybe? He's blond, broad-shouldered, with one of those strong, square jaws that belongs to either Clark Kent or a serial killer. She's never spoken to him herself, but she's heard... _enough_ about him.

She looks around, hoping that perhaps he really is just here for coffee and that _Scylla_ is obviously somewhere else nearby, but it looks like she is out of luck. "Agent Edwards."

She does not motion for him to sit down, but he does anyway. He looks that particular kind of 'nervous yet confident that they're still in charge of the situation' that white men are good at, and he hums thoughtfully for a moment before saying, "I didn't expect to run into you here--" he leans forward, lowers his voice, "-- _Charybdis_?"

Moira rolls her eyes. Of course that's how the Talon code names would work. Of _course_. " _Scylla_ ," she acknowledges, sipping her tea. 

There, she's made contact, made herself known to him, just like the message had asked. She's not sure how exactly she's supposed to assess his usefulness, but undoubtedly he received a similar message to hers, and with any luck he's come prepared. It's his big audition; given how quick he was to lean in and whisper secret and important code words to her with no confirmation that she was even the right person, she's ready for him to either drop a bombshell or utterly disappoint.

"How is this supposed to go?" Edwards asks.

"I thought perhaps you might know. I was told that you were the one--" Moira pauses as Edwards flags down one of the waitstaff and orders some kind of elaborate coffee drink. She taps her fingers impatiently on the table until he's done, waits until the waitress is out of earshot before continuing. "I was told that you were the one who reached out to us. There must be something you have, and there must be something you want."

( _Us_ , Moira thinks to herself with a sneer, as though she's an integral part of Talon and not her own person with her own plans and goals.)

"There are plenty of things that I want, Doctor. As for what I have? I have information and access," Edwards says. He grins. "I'm out in the field with the Commander on nearly seventy percent of his missions, and I can get you into pretty much any computer system we have."

"Big talk,” Moira says. They pause again while the waitress returns with Edwards' drink. "What kind of proof do you have?"

"If you ever needed to go out into the field, for whatever reason, I could help make space for you on the team."

"I'm sure I could manage that myself, but to do so easily and quickly could be of use. What else?"

Edwards' face falls a little bit. Whatever he has or doesn't have, it looks like he hadn't expected to have to offer it up now.

"The access is good, but you said you have information," Moira prompts.

He pauses--a good sign? a bad one?--and then asks, "Do you know about McCree?"

"What about him?"

"About him and Reyes--" Edwards fishes an actual cell phone out of his pocket, not one of the Overwatch comms. He keys it open and pokes at it for a few seconds before turning the screen furtively to Moira. There's a grainy photo there, and Moira squints at it for a moment before it resolves itself: McCree has Reyes pushed up into a dark corner somewhere, and they appear to be making out like teenagers. The shot is grainy enough that Moira can't tell for sure, but it looks like McCree's hand may be down the front of Reyes' pants.

"Jesus," Moira mutters, turning the phone back to Edwards. This is a _big deal_ , and the smirk on Edwards' face says he knows as much. "Who all knows about this?"

"Just the strike team, I think. Maybe Shimada? But he's so far up his own ass half the time that it's hard to tell. Not the Strike Commander, I can tell you that for sure." Edwards smirks harder, takes a sip of his own drink. "The team will circle the wagons if you come at Reyes directly, though, so you'll have to figure something else out if you want to use this to confront him." After the Blackwatch incident in Bolivia a few months back, the one that never made it as far as Overwatch command, Moira could've guessed as much. Still, it's nice to have confirmation.

She studies his face for a few long moments, long enough that he starts to squirm a little. She asks him: "What do you get out of all of this?"

"I'm tired of not being taken seriously." Edwards gives a complicated shrug, and makes a face like he wants Moira to ask what he means. Moira _really_ doesn't want to ask what he means.

.

She sends a message back to Talon: _The new agent's intel and positioning are good._ For half a second, she thinks about adding _please don't make me work with him_ but knows she probably won't have a choice.

.

Moira runs the numbers in her head again. Talon are paying for pretty much all of her research on the Reaper project, and if she were to suddenly lose funding partway through, there's no way it could continue. If the project stopped abruptly, it's likely that Gabriel Reyes would stop, abruptly, too; there's no way to know how his system would react to a sudden change like that in the regimen. If Blackwatch loses Gabriel Reyes, anything could happen--someone like McCree or Valdez could take over, or Morrison could send in someone like Amari or Wilhelm to oversee things, or the whole thing could be shut down entirely, all of which are terrible prospects for Moira continuing to work as she does. Just like the four previous times she'd done the math, the conclusion is unavoidable: there's no way to do this without Talon funding.

She'd first run the numbers when the message from Talon had initially arrived, ordering her to accompany their other Blackwatch asset on a mission that neither of them could do alone. Moira has spent the months since her meeting with Edwards avoiding him, and she had planned to continue doing so for the foreseeable future. But the message from Talon had not left her much choice, and so she'd gritted her teeth and gone along with Talon's plan.

She wonders briefly what Talon might consider "mission failure". If she returned with the data they're supposed to acquire but without Edwards, how much trouble would she really be in, really? If he wound up dead somewhere along the way with nobody to contradict her story, what would the harm be? If she opened one of the doors of this transport and physically tossed him out mid-flight, how much trouble would she be in?

Because by god, she is getting close to tossing him out of the transport.

"I don't even know where they got the photo of me," Edwards is saying, leaning too far into her space, "But they just keep sending it to the group chat like it's the most goddamn hilarious thing in the world. I don't _get it_."

Moira has to say something. She can't listen to this man complain about the strike team's drama for another twenty minutes, or one of them is _definitely_ going out the side of the transport mid-air. "Did I somehow give you the impression that we were friends, Agent Edwards?"

He stops and looks at her. "What?"

"You and I, do you think we're friends? Or do you air your grievances like this to every stranger unfortunate enough to be stuck in an enclosed space with you?"

Edwards sputters for a second, obviously surprised to get anything besides sympathy for his complaints.

Undeterred, Moira continues. "I bet you're great fun on planes and in elevators. I bet everyone loves hearing about your pores."

"You don't have to be mean about it." Edwards crosses his arms, leans back in an undignified sulk.

"You're a mole for one black ops organization inside another, officially unsanctioned black ops organization. I'm fairly certain 'nice' is outside the realm of the possible."

Edwards huffs. "Let's just get the job done."

At least he's stopped talking.

The mission goes fine; nobody dies...well, neither of them die, at least. Moira uses her biotic pack to absorb the life force from six of the facility's guards, which is, honestly, at least three more than she really needed to. She'd been _frustrated_. But she's alive, and Edwards is alive, and with her knowledge and his tech skills they were able to get the medical data that Talon had asked for.

To be completely honest, she thinks on the ride back, she's had worse evenings--and then Edwards starts asking questions: does she know what this medical data is, what does she do for Blackwatch exactly, what is she getting out of Talon--too many _questions_.

"Given the...nature of our relationship, it's probably better if you don't know that," Moira says carefully, trying her best to tactfully say _it is best for Talon that neither of us knows too much about the other_ and also _we are not friends_.

Edwards looks unsatisfied with this answer, but at least a little happier than he would've if she'd told him again that they weren't friends. She wonders fleetingly if he _has_ any friends--she doesn't care one way or the other, but she'd be willing to bet that he probably doesn't, or at least not as many as he thinks.

.

She sends the medical data to Talon, and this time she does add: _please don't make me work with him again._ In response, the contact at Talon sends back a partial transcript of the strike team's group chat, presumably turned over by Edwards himself. It's a series of photos of Edwards, presumably _the_ photo of Edwards, zoomed in closer and closer until she can count the pores on his nose, interspersed with Edwards pleading: GUYS. GUYS, STOP.

She snorts--how could he not get why this is funny?--and saves it to her own comm, just in case.


End file.
